


Personal Target (Clint x Reader)

by KOREAlchemist



Category: Avengers (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KOREAlchemist/pseuds/KOREAlchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stocking a personal target has never been harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Target (Clint x Reader)

Personal Target (Clint x Reader)

 

~Clint’s POV~

“Focus, Clint. Keep your eye on the target.” 

Clint had only one thing on his mind. He had a personal mission. The goal was simple; take out a potential threat. 

His target: another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, (f/n) (l/n). 

He was smitten by you since the first day you walked into headquarters. Well, more like running in a panicked frenzy on your first day of work. 

The day was like any other day. He was causally strolling down the hallway with Natasha, chatting away, when something, or in this case someone, rammed into his back, causing him to fall forward flat on his face. 

“What the. . .” He felt the addition weight rise from his back then he quickly turned to face the unknown assailant. What he found made his heart beat a little bit faster. 

A few stray (h/l) locks flew form a loose messy bun as the stranger stood up and patted her clothes off, the new black suit jacket and skirt now a wrinkled mess. Papers flew everywhere. (e/c) orbs locked on to his as the young agent began to panic and apologize in a flustered mess.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” The young girl muttered, “This is my first day and I don’t know where I’m going.”

“The name’s Clint, not sir,” he stated then pointed to his cohort, “And this is Natasha.”

“My name’s (y/n).”

“Do you need help?” Natasha asked as she watched the numerous leaves of papers land on the smooth, concrete floor. The girl also looked around and sighed.

“Yes, please.” Clint gave her a hand to get her upright and started to gather up paperwork. The sound of crumbled paper and the click of shoes against the flood were shattered by the voice of his newly found friend.

“Thank you so much,” She flashed a smile and took the papers that Nat and him collected and ran off into the nearest hallway.

The flashback ended. Clint was back up in the rafters, waiting for his subject to arrive for her afternoon snack.

3:18. Right on time.

 

~Your POV~

You were making your way to the snack machine when you felt uneasy. You gave a quick look around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was weird; you been having this feeling for weeks now. It seemed like someone was watching you just out of your view. You were worried. Did you have a stalker? Why was someone watching you? You had only been working here for maybe a month or two. What information did you have that someone would track you down for? 

You shook off the eerie feeling and began to fish for some loose change in your pocket when the glass shattered and flew everywhere across the ground. You blocked yourself and made your way around the corner. 

“What the hell was that?!” You said to yourself as you watched and waited to see if something else would happen. When you thought it was safe, you walked carefully over to the broken machine to find the cause of the attack.

“An arrow?” You were about to remove the arrow when a voice called out from behind you.

“If you would’ve stayed still.” There behind you was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s eye in the sky, Clint Barton.

“Clint, what the hell?” You made a b-line towards the sharpshooter, your heels clicking sharply against the pavement with every step. 

He ignored your advances and proceeded over to the broken machine, pulling out the projectile and handing it to you.

“Here.” 

You looked over its sleek, oblong body to find a note attached to its frame. With nimble fingers, you carefully untied the delicate paper from its deadly messenger and unrivaled it to read the small message. A dark blush crept along your cheeks as you repeated the short note in your head.

Will you go on a date with me? Maybe 7 at Central Park?

Several minutes must have pasted as Clint gave a not-so-subtle cough. You looked up at him; the blush grew worst and worst with each second of eye contact.

“So what do you say?” You tried to swallow what lit spit accumulated in your throat, hoping that it would fix your dry mouth, 

“Of course I will,” you muttered, the burning rouge finally cooling down into a mild dust.

“Great,” he seemed overjoyed by your answer, pulling you closer to him and placing a soft peck on your forehead, “Can’t wait to see you then.”

“Agent Barton to Fury’s office, NOW!” Coulson’s voice echoed in the speaker above.

Oh the irony; they must have seen Clint destroy the vending machine on one of their numerous hidden cameras and from the frustrated tone in Coulson’s voice, he was not pleased with it. Fury, on the other hand, was going to be at least five levels above Coulson in the anger factor. 

“That is if you escape Fury in one piece,” You giggled slightly as Clint gave a throaty growl and proceeded to walk towards his impending doom. 

“I’ll find a way,” he looked back, giving you a farewell salute before running back to the one-eyed ogre’s lair.

“Sure you will, Clint,” you nodded, “Sure you will.”


End file.
